


White Peonies and Misteltoe

by Thette



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Angry Kissing, Angst with a Happy Ending, Awkward First Times, Bad Puns, Dissociation, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Enemies to Lovers, Explicit Consent, First Dates, First Kiss, First Time, Fluff and Angst, Frottage, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Domestic Violence, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, Job Loss, Language of Flowers, Laughter During Sex, M/M, Non-Penetrative Sex, Oral Sex, Panic Attacks, Safer Sex, Safeword Use, Stolen Kisses, not as angsty as it seems, unemployment, very brief reference
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-26
Updated: 2018-07-26
Packaged: 2019-06-16 19:30:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,521
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15444228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thette/pseuds/Thette
Summary: How did Barry and Len get trapped in a 3'x3' box with meta dampening powers, and why does this give Len a panic attack? What's going to happen when Len kisses Barry in an interrogation room?I swear, this is fluffier than the tags make it look.





	1. The Ice Box

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Yuffyka](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yuffyka/gifts).



> Written for the 2018 summer Coldflash exchange, for Yuffyka. I managed to get two of their prompts in one fic. 
> 
> "First Prompt: Len gets arrested for something -I’m thinking he lets himself for a job to get some intel- and taken to the precinct where he flirts with Barry as he takes his samples, maybe even manages to kiss him in front of half the officers, and now Barry has to deal with the policemen’s reactions (I want some aaangst here). Len of course escapes and somehow they get together in the end. 
> 
> Second Prompt: I want Len to be scared of something. Maybe they get stuck in a vault and the lights go out and Len is scared in the dark or some dumb shit like that which he usually has under control but not right now. So Barry helps him but afterwards Len keeps expecting Barry to use this information against him... they have the feelings but whether they get together is up to you."
> 
> Betaed by the lovely [Hadespuppy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hadespuppy), who made this a much better work.

"Really, Snart? You are so predictable. Always going for the biggest bling. I could have just waited for you here." The Flash sashayed in and posed in front of Len, seemingly not  bothered by the cold gun pointed straight at him. Fair enough, it had been a long time since Len shot first and bantered later, if he ever had.

"You know how much I like my ice," Len said, with that smirk he only used when he made a terrible pun. And that was the reason he preferred diamond heists.

Barry groaned, and Len shot in his direction. He flashed away, the cold beam hitting a statue behind him. With a rush of wind, he pushed Len hard against the wall just a few feet from the open safe. 

"Didn't your teachers tell you to Just Say No?" Barry's bad pun grin was wider, more open, as if he actually expected a positive response.

Len used all his strength to turn them around, his gun poking into Barry's side as he stood far too close. "High school dropout, remember?" He backed off a bit. "Crystal meth was never my kind of ice, anyway."

Barry pushed him away. Len fired the cold gun, hitting Barry in the shoulder. He could see the pain it caused, as Barry stopped to rub the injury for just one second. Then he was off again, slamming into Len and grabbing him by the waist. They ended up half-sitting on top of each other on the floor right by the safe. The impact triggered the pressure sensitive alarm, and solid walls came down with a crash, enclosing them in a tight space. Len was too stunned by the pain in his back to move in time, but Barry had used his speed to get them both out of the way of the guillotine-like walls and into a standing position. 

It was dark inside, and Len could reach all the walls with his half outstretched hands. About three feet side to side, then. He could feel his nemesis' breathing, as they stood pressed against each other. He _could_ back away a little, but who would blame him for taking advantage of an unfortunate situation? The pleasure of the Flash's lithe body pressed up against his wasn't quite enough to temper his annoyance, however. "Genius move, Flash. You couldn't have swooshed us _out_ of this cage." He illustrated the swoosh with a sweep of his fingers, knowing full well that it would go unseen.

"I could have, if you hadn't _shot me_!" Barry raised his voice. Not much, but it echoed across the walls. 

Len retreated into the corner on his side, trying hard not to put his hands over his ears and block out the shouting. This was the Flash. He wouldn't hurt him, as long as he behaved. Followed the rules. Pushed a little, but not too much. Knowing did nothing to stop the instinctual flinch that a raised voice brought out in him when he felt trapped. 

"Also, I could have phased through these walls, if they weren't dampening my powers. Whoever installed this was a paranoid genius."

Wait, what? "You can walk through walls?" Len asked, almost reverently. The endless possibilities branching out in his mind distracted him from his fear. "Damn, kid, what's it gonna take for you to join my Rogues?"

Despite the situation, Barry laughed, leaning his head back against the wall with a thud. His laughter also echoed, but it wasn't a cruel laughter. It was one of genuine delight, nothing that triggered a fear response. "That's a bold recruitment pitch." 

Len powered up the cold gun. In the familiar blue glow, he could see Barry backing away in fear, pressing even closer against the wall, with one hand covering his injured shoulder. Right, meta dampening field meant that he wasn't healing properly. That ice burn had got to sting. 

"Chill, Flash. Just using the glare to take stock of the situation." 

There was nothing. They were trapped in a nine square feet steel box with solid, smooth walls. No locking mechanisms. The walls didn't budge when he tried pounding on them. He looked at Barry again, taking in the way the single light source made his cheekbones cast shadows over his eyes. At some point, Barry had taken the cowl off. Len pursed his lips, caught Barry's eyes, and nodded. The blue light went out.

"Can't keep it up, or I'll risk frostbite. Short bursts only." 

"Any plans? You're usually the Man with a Plan." 

Len sank down to the floor, his back in the corner and his legs reaching across to the opposite corner. It was a tight fit, but he could sit down. 

"Out of luck, out of options. Best bet is to wait until someone opens, and give back the loot." He kept his breathing very regulated. Inhale through the nose. Hold. Exhale through the mouth. The panic in his gut receded, until he thought about the obvious. Oh, fuck. He did a quick calculation, and with normal human breathing, they'd have oxygen for about six hours. Of course, carbon dioxide would kill them long before that. People say that carbon dioxide poisoning was a painless way to go, which at least was a bit of a silver lining. He tried to keep his voice calm, but he could hear the slight shakiness. 

"Hey, Barry, how's your speedster oxygen consumption?"

"When I use my powers, it's high. But now, I'm not healing, so I guess I'm down to human levels."

"Guessing isn't gonna help," Len snarled, irrationally irritated. "And using the gun will burn through oxygen, too, so we're in the dark. We're screwed." He felt his heart race and his stomach knot. A weight sat on his chest, squeezing, pressing, turning his breaths into short, sobbing gasps.

"Hey, Snart," Barry said, and Len couldn't respond. 

"Leonard…" Still nothing he could say.

"Lenny?" 

His sister's nickname for him cut through the panic, and he could take and hold a deep breath. Len still couldn't bear to reply, but he figured Barry was observant enough to know he had gotten through anyway. 

"Listen to me, Lenny. We can get through this. But I need you to listen to me."

"Can't do that," he said. He was so far away, barely even feeling his body's reactions anymore. His fingers were no longer tingling, they were numb. 

"You can, Lenny." Barry’s voice was calm and soft, in a practised way. "If it's okay with you, I'm going to kneel beside you." He gently lowered his body, until he was kneeling, sitting back on his heels and facing Len. He pushed Len's knee away with one of his. Len bent his knees in response, and twisted his legs to the side, allowing Barry a bit more room, but he still didn't speak. He was hyperventilating, trying to get as much air as possible into his lungs, despite knowing that it only made things worse. He pounded his fists into the floor, hoping that the pain in his chest would go away, but he still felt like he was being strangled, smothered, _dying_. Wave after wave of muscle tension ran through his body, leaving him with very few moments of relaxation in between.

"Breathe with me, Lenny," Barry said, and started doing some very familiar breathing exercises. In, hold, out. Pause.

"Can't breathe," Len gasped. "Walls…" The walls were closing in, coming down, pushing, pushing, squeezing, pressing...

"I know, I know." It sounded like he actually knew, and Len was thankful. "I'm here. I know I'm not the person you'd want here with you when you're panicking, but I'm the one you get."

Len huffed in response. There were many options that were worse, and few that were better. Thinking about who could have been in here with him started a new cycle of anxiety, waves of panic coming over him.

"You can touch me if you think it helps." Len could hear him remove his gloves, two soft, swishing sounds one after the other.

"Careful what you're offering, Red," he managed to squeeze out, and Barry just chuckled. He grabbed Barry's thigh and held on, as if his life depended on it. Distantly, he wondered if he was too rough, but the only reaction was a surprised inhalation. Head against the wall, one hand on the cold floor, one hand on a muscled thigh. When tension rose in his body, he slapped his open palm on the floor, and grabbed tighter with his left hand. Don't think about the walls, don't think about the walls, don't think about… This wasn't helping. He needed a distraction.

He consciously relaxed his death grip, and felt Barry's hand on top of his own, giving him a little squeeze, nothing like his own spasms. He wondered if Barry was sporting finger sized bruises under the suit, but decided against pursuing the thought. He turned his palm upwards, holding Barry's hand. It was a desperate gesture, suitable for a desperate moment. 

"Talk to me, Barry. Don't care about what, just distract me." He could feel his voice rasping, as if he had actually been screaming out loud, not just in his mind.

"I used to love reading. In my old bedroom in Joe's house, I had two bookshelves full of trashy science fiction. Mostly trashy, some of it was actually good. So much conspiracy stuff, too. Joe hated that. He'd go from making fun of me to having Serious Talks, capital letters and all. Anyway, it used to be fun, but now I can't read for pleasure anymore. I just want to rush through the book with my speed, because if I don't, it feels like it takes forever. And reading a hundred and fifty page Ace paperback with bright yellow edges takes me less than a second. I can't watch TV, either. Everything feels like 2001: A Space Odyssey. On the other hand, I've read so much non-fiction. I could probably do that doctorate Joe was talking about, when I graduated in the top five percent of my class, without even breaking a sweat. Writing is more work, because the keyboard doesn't react to my fingers when I type at my top speed. I have to slow down."

Len squeezed his hand. "Not a poetry man, then?"

"God, no. Even before the lightning, that was too slow for me. I like action."

"You like rushing in and getting in way over your head without a plan." The teasing was familiar, and Barry's ramblings were comforting, calming. Len suspected he was consciously slowing down his speech, because the kid could talk at a breakneck speed when he got started. It worked much better than any breathing exercise, and he felt he could listen to Barry's voice forever. For the rest of his life, he thought sardonically, but the thought of dying here in the darkness didn't trigger another attack. His breathing was under control, and his pulse had calmed down some, but not all the way back to normal. The pressure over his chest was bearable, and he no longer felt like he was dying. He was still restless, wanted nothing more than to get up and stalk the room from side to side. 

"Eh, potayto, potahto," Barry said with a laugh. "You doing okay, Lenny?"

It wasn't a laugh, it was barely a breath. "The only people who call me that are Lisa, and the people I've dated. A short list."

"Wait… So you mean your bastard of a father killed your supposed boyfriend?"

"Don't…" He just had to go and bring up Lewis, did he? Len felt like a child again, locked in the closet under the stairs for breaking a glass when he did the dishes. He remembered screaming, and how the screams got stuck in his throat when Lewis struck him for the first time. His throat closed up, his lungs didn't work, he could feel the stripes on his back where the belt had hit...

Barry's thumb stroked over Len's hand carefully. "Okay, bad idea to bring him up, I'm sorry. I'm just running my mouth." The silence stretched and became unbearable.

"Please," Len whispered. He made himself as small as he could, pulling his legs up and wrapping his free arm around his knees. He was shivering with tears, his shoulders hunched up and his face hidden.

"Do you want me to keep talking?" He squeezed Barry's hand in reply. "I'm gonna take that as a yes. If you want me to stop, just drop my hand. Talking about something entirely different, I think Cisco is still hung up on Lisa. He likes women who could eat him alive. And I don't know her like you do, obviously, but I think she would. It would be a good death, but I like my tech genius.  And I mean, sure. I get it. She's cute, no, gorgeous, but not my type. A bit too much fake glitter over the hard edges. Also, I knew you first, and it'd be weird."

The shadows of Lewis were slowly passing away. He was still shaking, still felt like an elephant was sitting on his chest, but he no longer wanted to disappear or felt restless, like his skin was crawling with ants. Could he talk? Maybe. 

"Your type?" he asked, voice croaking on the last word.

"What's it to you, Lenny? Or wait, we haven't dated. I didn't mean to overstep, but that was the name you listened to. Do you want me to call you something else? I don't know, we're holding hands, it feels kinda weird to call you by your last name." 

"Len," he managed to get out.

"Len," Barry said, his name smooth like treacle in his mouth. "I like that. As for my type, well, that's tricky. It's not like I'm a Casanova or anything. I was the weird kid in high school and college, and not exactly the most social type afterwards. I like smart people, obviously. I think fast --- yes, I heard it ---, and I need someone I can talk to. Patty, we dated a while ago and didn't work out. She was too similar to me, and I could never tell her about the Flash. I need someone who already knows, but that pool of people is small and mostly filled with friends who border on siblings. Linda just wasn't right. She was a replacement for Iris, and I was never into her for the wonderful person she is. 

"I don't think you'll be surprised to hear I've been in love with Iris as long as I've known what love is, but I've come to terms with her and Eddie. They're great for each other, and I love them both. But she still has a big impact, because she never lets me get away with my shit, and I think that's shaped my idea of love. Though sometimes I wish she hadn't learned how to be passive-aggressive from Joe. I want someone who can challenge me, never let me grow bored. I do like a positive attitude, but if all I was after was some sunshine, I'd be dating Cisco. Or, even more literally, Ray Palmer, a literal ray of sunshine. Or Felicity Smoak. I know so many amazing people, but they're all just good friends. No spark."

"Why not Mick, if you're looking for a spark?" Len's whole word had narrowed down to their hands, where Barry at some point had interlocked their fingers. His thumb was still stroking Len's, calming him down. 

Barry laughed. "Well, strong and silent has definitely never been my type. He's kinda hot, pun intended, in a rough way, but I like conversation. I need someone who'll talk to me, too. You know what it's like, when you're the geeky kid, always afraid that people are gonna hate you if you talk too much? Or maybe you have no idea."

"I'm familiar with social anxiety, yes," Len said sarcastically, even if his own brand was nothing like Barry's. If someone actually could kill you for saying the wrong word, you either learned to be quiet or to defend yourself. That was the difference between juvie and high school.

"Were you a _geek_?" Barry asked, sounding far too amused by the concept. 

"I could tell you, but I'd have to kill you." It was a good question. He had been a bookish, shy juvenile delinquent. Nothing like Mick's brawny, cocky demeanor. It was what passed as geek under the circumstances, he guessed. Sometimes, he wished he had had the resources to become an engineer or maybe a chemist, but he was too addicted to adrenaline to go legit.

"That's as good as a yes."

"Fortunately, you have erased all digital traces of me. You can't prove it, one way or another." He was very happy that nobody would ever find his high-top fade pictures from junior high. Not a geek, but a dork.

A clanging sound came from outside their uncomfortable cocoon. "Can you trust me, just this once?" Barry didn't wait for an answer. "Drop the loot. Please, Len." He did, because like it or not, he did trust Barry. "Hold on."

The light was blinding when the walls came up, but Barry was prepared. He lifted Len in a bridal carry, and as soon as the power dampeners came off, he ran. Len felt somewhat motion sick, the way he always did when he was flashed away. In the alley behind Saints and Sinners, the Flash dropped him off. His cowl was back up and his gloves were back on, as if nothing had happened, as if Len hadn't spilled his guts and showed his enemy exactly where to strike. He took a deep breath.

"Thanks, Flash," he said, maybe with a bit more warmth in his voice than usual. "If you can keep a secret, I won't tell Heatwave you think he's hot."

"Oh, shut up," Barry said, and ran away to the sound of Captain Cold's laughter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I have calculated the lenght of the cage on the diagonal (4' 2") and an approximation of their respective leg length, and Len would indeed fit with his legs stretched while sitting down.
> 
> [Young Wentworth Miller in nineties hair](http://images6.fanpop.com/image/photos/35600000/young-went-wentworth-miller-35632715-462-480.jpg), because you need to see that picture.


	2. Stolen Kiss

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Other than the warnings in the tags, this chapter contains a fist fight that turns into a makeout session. No violence once the kissing starts.

Barry hated Halloween. The police precinct was always busy, and the holding cells were overflowing. Most of the crime was petty theft and vandalism, which had no need for his services, and sexual assault. He didn't work with the special victims unit, so he was spared collecting those samples. He'd process the evidence and run the DNA tests, but that was a question for later.

Everyone else was busy hauling criminals in and doing the required paperwork, which meant that he had to dodge and weave around vicious drunks and teenagers with an attitude. Not his favorite night of the year, no.

Two uniformed cops dragged a man in front of him, and he didn't have time to avoid a collision without using his powers.

"Watch where you're going, Allen," the taller of them (Wayland? Waylett?) shouted.

Barry was just about to say he was sorry, when he looked up at the arrestee, and into a pair of very familiar ice blue eyes. "Len…" He stopped just in time. "Leonard Snart?"

"Yeah, we caught us some big fish tonight," said the shorter, stocky one with a particularly ugly laugh. Barry was reasonably sure that was Sanders. "Too bad all the holding cells are full. Gonna have to throw this one in the maintenance closet." They moved him in that direction, none too gentle.

Len stared at Barry over his shoulder, and Barry stared back in shock. They mustn't be allowed to do that. It'd be torture. Barry was sure it would send him into a panic attack again, and he'd be in there all alone. His mind went over all his options at superspeed, including phasing into the closet and holding his hand again, but he decided to use his connections instead.

"Hey, guys, give it a sec. Detective Thawne told me he wanted to question him."

"Uh-huh. I believe that when I hear it from Thawne."

Barry ran as fast as he could while still looking like a normal human. "Hey, Eddie," he said, and laid a hand on his friend's shoulder. "I'm gonna need a huge favour."

"What did you do, Barry?" Eddie asked, a bit too suspicious for Barry's liking. "Or is it," he made a gesture that probably was supposed to indicate the Flash, "you know, business?"

"Yeah. Waylett and Sanders are about to lock Snart up in a closet, and we cannot allow them to do that. There's a reason, but I can't tell you. Just trust me on this, okay?"

Eddie nodded, still looking suspicious.

"I need you to hold him for questioning in one of the interrogation rooms instead. Until someone finds out that we have nothing on him, other than his father's death, but he already served his time for that. I owe him for what he's done for me, and I can't let them torture him. And believe me, that closet would be a cruel and unusual punishment. Also against state law, I'm sure."

"Calm down, Barry. Of course I'll take my chances interrogating Captain Cold. It'd be a feather in my cap if I can get him to confess." Eddie smiled a knowing smile, and looked down. Not very likely, no, Barry could agree.

"Hey, Sanders," Eddie shouted, and the uniformed cops turned around. "Gonna have to borrow your crook. It's about the Santini case." He went up to the two men, and said more quietly. "It's your collar, of course. But I've wanted a chat with this bastard for years." They grumbled, but accepted the detective's order. "Come on, Snart. Let's get your prints and DNA, and then, I have a stack of case files a foot tall that I'd like to discuss with you."

Once Len was cuffed to the table in the interrogation room, and Eddie had left to pick up the files he needed, Barry was alone with him again. He gestured to the cameras with his head, and Len said something very much like "of course, do you think I'm stupid?" with a raise of his eyebrow and a twist of his mouth. Barry picked up his fingerprinting kit, and silently took Len's fingers, one by one, making the required marks on the form. He tried his best not to linger, but it was hard, when this situation reminded him of the time he had held that hand for comfort.

"I'd enjoy this a lot more without the ink spots," Len said, clearly mirroring his own thoughts.

Barry looked at him, and hoped that he'd interpret the look as scolding. He tried imitating Joe when he was in a bad mood. "Yeah, well, you had to go and get caught. So, you do what you do, and I do what I do. Open up." He swabbed Len's cheek.

"I can think of more… pleasant… ways to collect my DNA."

"Really? You had to go there. Of course you did." He, once again, looked unsubtly in the direction of the cameras.

Len just smirked, the bastard. The one-way mirrors and the live (and recording) cameras meant that Barry had no idea how many people were watching them. Cold was something of a legend, after all.

Barry checked that the ink was dry and started packing up his stuff. "Behave."

"Oh, but where's the fun in that?" he asked with a smirk. Before Barry knew what was happening, he was being thoroughly kissed. Len's lips were soft against his, gently pressing at first, and then more demanding, his tongue teasing Barry's lower lip. Barry gasped, his mouth falling open of its own accord, and Len promptly took the invitation. He turned his head, deepening the kiss and licking into Barry's mouth. His hands were cradling Barry's face gently.

Wait.

His hands.

His hands should be in cuffs.

Barry pulled back, only to find that he was the one cuffed to the table. Len smirked, picked up the fingerprint card and the DNA swab, and walked out. "Be seeing you, Barry," he said in that infuriatingly smooth voice of his.

Barry sat down in the chair on the wrong side of the table, stunned. His mind felt slow, like he was thinking underwater. All the sounds from the busy precinct came from so far away, and were distorted.

"Baaarryyy... " He couldn't even recognise that voice. He should, but it was all slowed down. "Barry!" Reality snapped back in place, and Eddie was shouting at him. "What the hell, Barry? I leave you alone with Captain Cold for five minutes, and he escapes?"

"Go easy on him, Detective. He's just been sexually assaulted." The kind voice was Captain Singh. "Let's get you out of those cuffs." It felt like it took forever until they got him out, but it was probably not that many seconds. "You're his friend, right, Detective Thawne?"

"Yes, Captain."

"Take him home, keep him company, and I'll try to get everything in order for the Internal Affairs investigation that's coming up."

***

"Mr Allen, a word, please." Captain Singh was back to his usual snappiness, if not worse. Barry followed him to his office. The captain locked the door and closed the blinds. "I hate to be doing this, Mr Allen, but I have no choice. Sit down."

Barry sat down in the armchair facing the desk, and Captain Singh sat in his desk chair. Normally, Barry was an inch or so taller, but sitting like this, the captain towered over him. A well calculated power move, he was sure. "Sir?"

"I reviewed the footage of your encounter with Mr Snart. You both acted as if you were familiar with each other, almost friendly. Now, from my point of view, Barry Allen, CSI, has never met Leonard Snart in person before. Is there anything you'd like to tell me now, off the record?"

"I would prefer not to, sir."

"We have very little on Snart, ever since the deletion of his files. Which was the starting point of my investigation. We all know the Flash was seen in the evidence room that night. Do you know whose login was active during the break in?"

"No, sir." It was a blatant lie. They had covered every other track, but he had needed to be logged in to access the digital data.

"Allen, I thought you were better than this." He sighed and buried his face in his hands. "I can overlook a lot. I have. I'm familiar with your extracurricular activities." The surprise must have shown on Barry's face, because Captain Singh snorted. "You're not that good a liar. The suit only covers half your face, and does nothing about your body or your movement pattern. I've known as long as we've had video footage. I chose to look the other way, as long as it didn't interfere with your day job, but I do draw the line at tampering with evidence."

Barry's heart was beating even more rapidly than usual. So, this was how it all ended. That kiss had ruined his life. He could see himself moving back to Joe's, working a pizza delivery job or something, special delivery by the Flash. Why not? Why not let everybody know? He clearly couldn't keep a secret anyway. "I'm sorry, Captain. I know I shouldn't have, but it was my only option at the time."

"I don't want to know!" Captain Singh slapped his palms down on the table. "For crying out loud, plausible deniability, Allen!"

The situation was so absurd, Barry didn't know if he wanted to cry or laugh.

"This is what we'll do. You will quit your job, and if anybody asks, I'll tell them it's because you recently got into a relationship with a criminal." He held up his hand, stalling Barry's objections. "I know, you don't look good in this. But you look significantly better than if Internal Affairs start digging and find that you've been compromised for years. Barry," he said, using his first name for the first time since he had started working there, "all your work could be questioned. Every criminal with a grudge against Snart will come demanding a retrial. I can't trust you around police work any longer, but I hope I can trust that you've never done anything like this for anyone else?"

"I promise, sir. Snart is a special case." No, he did not come out of this looking good. He came out of this looking like a love-struck teenager, or a fool. Or a crook.

"Then, I have your resignation papers right here. I'm sorry, Barry, I truly am. Go pick up your personal items from the lab." He shook Barry's hand firmly, and pulled him into a short hug. "Go save the city," he said, with a pat on Barry's back and a sad smile.

When Barry walked out of the precinct, he could feel every single eye on him, burning through his plaid button up and making his neck itch. He wanted to scratch it, but he needed to carry the box with his few belongings. This was the worst walk of shame he had ever endured.

While he took the bus home, he looked out through the window, and didn't even dare to think about his future. He mostly felt numb, resigned that this had to happen sooner or later. Damn Snart, with his soft lips and life-ruining kisses. No, he wasn't going to cry. Not now.

If he failed to get another job, he could always move back in with Joe. For the second time. He wasn't going to be homeless, at least. Most of his college buddies had been unemployed at one point or another. The downside was that he could never get another job in forensics. The upside was that Singh had been right. He had been compromised. Not just by Snart, though that bastard sure was a major source of his issues, but by being a vigilante.

He could hear Joe in his head, talking about making your bed and lying in it. Despondent, he rested his head on the window, looking at the run-down warehouse area the bus passed through on its way to the suburbs. He hugged the box closer, but it did nothing to comfort him.

Once he had gotten off, at a bus stop by an apartment complex at the edge of the city proper, he slowly walked up the three stairs to his apartment. He could run, but he didn't have it in him today, and he tried to avoid letting his neighbours notice the Flash. He unlocked his door, and unceremoniously dropped his box by the shoe rack. When he lifted his gaze towards his small living room-slash-kitchen-slash-bedroom, he could see one thing that hadn't been there before.

On the kitchen island was a low vase, almost a bowl, filled with fruit, still on the branches, and flowers. It was a gorgeous arrangement, way more expensive than any flowers he had ever bought. He approached it cautiously, afraid it was a trap. Who had broken into his apartment, just to leave a bouquet? Or had he left the door open? No, he had just unlocked it himself. There was a light blue card, with one white snowflake in relief on the front. On the back, there was a short note, with text in block letters.

_White peonies: I'm sorry for embarrassing you._  
_Blue hyacinths: Sincerely._  
_Purple hyacinths: Forgive me._  
_Apple: Temptation._  
_Pomegranate: A new start._  
_Peach roses: Closing a deal._  
_Green carnations: Gay._  
_Mistletoe: Kisses._

_I'm sorry for not asking first, but I can't be sorry for kissing you, Scarlet. I've wanted to do so for a long time, and I want you to know that any time you feel like stealing a kiss back, you know where to find me._

It was signed with an elaborate, cursive L, and nothing else.

Fuck him. Fuck that _asshole_ and fuck the day he wandered into Barry's life. He crushed the card into a little blue ball and threw it across the apartment. It landed on his bed with a disappointing thud. He wanted to break the vase, tear apart the flowers, but he couldn't. It was too pretty. It wasn't like he had that many personal touches here. No art, just photos of friends and family. A few vases and bowls on a shelf in the living room, the ones that were worth keeping from his childhood home. The rest of his things were mass-produced and cheap, sturdy or both. Beauty had never been a priority, but when it forced its way into his home, he couldn't let it go.

But when Len, that bastard, broke into his _home_ , it didn't matter that he was gorgeous. This couldn't stand. Barry fisted his hands, digging his fingernails into the meat of his palm. No, he needed to set some boundaries. He clenched his jaw, getting ready for a fight.

***

Barry saw Len sitting in Saints and Sinners, as expected, sipping from a beer. He just… sat there, like a normal person, without caring about the chaos he caused. Barry raced in, and took him away to the clearing in the forest, where he had first shown his face.

"Hello, Barry. Coming to steal it back?" His voice was smarmy and superior, as usual, and it drove Barry mad.

He could feel the blush rising on his cheeks, his rapid breathing, the need to just get. This. Out. He pushed Len against a tree trunk, holding him in place with his entire body. It felt good to have him at his mercy. He wanted to hurt him, to make him understand. One step back, and he threw a punch, a right hook that connected with Len's jaw with a dull thud. He didn't use the full power of the Speed Force, but he did put a little bit of his speed into it.

"You bastard!"

One more punch, a left hook aimed at his cheek, but Len moved with the blow this time.

"You kissed me in front of the whole police station! You cost me my job! You ruined my life with your pathetic little stunt." Barry grabbed him by his collar. "And then you break into my home and you leave me flowers. Like I'm your boyfriend or something."

Len pushed his sharp fingers into the soft meat of the side of Barry's hands, holding him in place with a painful grip. "I never meant for you to lose your job. Trust me."

Trust him? After everything he had done? The suggestion made a red rage rise within him. "Why should I trust you? You betray me, you lie, you hurt me." Barry was not in a position to hit him again. He leaned in close instead, and bit Len where his neck met his shoulder.

"Ow!" he yelped, and pushed Barry away. Len punched him in the stomach, and Barry lost his breath. Len took the chance to kick at his shins, and Barry hobbled away. "I told you, _that's what I do_ ," he snarled. "That's who I am. You're the one who keeps telling me I'm _good_." He came up closer, and punctuated his rant with another punch, one that Barry managed to avoid.

Barry charged him, not even bothering to use his speed. Just getting him down on the ground, hands held over his head while Barry straddled his thighs. He stopped, and took a breath, the first deep breath since he left home. "You ruin everything," he said, bitterly. "With your stupid kiss and your deals and your… everything…" He choked on a sob. "And I go along with it, because I think there's good in you, and I'm always wrong."

"You see the good in me. I see the bad in you."

Barry looked into his eyes, gray in the dim light of dusk. And close. So close.

"Didn't mean for you to lose your job when I kissed you. I pulled a trick, from Con Man 101. Didn't think you'd fall for it. Did I like it? Sure. But I had always expected it to happen more like… this."

Barry couldn't tell who moved, but someone had closed the last distance between them, and they were kissing. Desperately, frantically. He used his position to take control, and Len let him. Let him lead, let him plunder his mouth, let him pull back to soothe the bite mark with soft kisses and licks.

"You have a ruthless streak," Len said, softly. "The prisoners, the way you compromised your police ethics for me, the way you can kill if you have to. But that's okay. You wouldn't last a week without it."

It was too much. Too much. Barry fell down the last few inches, crying helplessly into Len's chest and holding onto his shoulders. He could feel Len's hands roaming gently across his back, his lips brushing his forehead.

"I suck at this," he said, between sobs.

"Not as much as I suck at the whole," Len waved his hand, "comforting thing."

Barry started laughing, and his laugh-crying gave him hiccups. He gently touched Len's face, where a bruise was already starting to form. "I'm sorry."

Len rolled them over, and they lay on their sides in the soft grass, looking at each other. "I've had worse. _You_  have given me worse. And I know how I've hurt you." He kissed Barry, so softly, so gently. "But that's not what I want anymore."

Barry broke the kiss. "What _do_ you want, then?" he asked, not knowing which response he wanted. He closed his eyes, thinking about this whole mess. What did _he_ want, himself?

"I don't know. This isn't something that I _do_. I keep my distance from people, so they can't hurt me. And then you came…" Len trailed off.

Barry shook his head. Len already knew how bad Barry's previous relationships had been. He wasn't the type to kiss someone just for the hell of it. He needed more, and he had a ridiculous hope that this... whatever it was... could turn into that nebulous "more."

"I don't even know what this thing between us is, or what it can be, but I promise you I won't raise a hand against you. But if Captain Cold comes at me, or anyone, with the cold gun, the Flash will handle that, and I can't promise that you're not getting hurt."

"That's a deal I can live with. But you should know that if you ever break it, I _will_ ice you. You know why."

"I know. Kiss me again, Len," Barry pleaded. This kiss felt like a promise, like a deal. Len's soft and strong lips opening up against his, the cautious tongue poking without entering, his stubble rough under Barry's fingers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The flower language is correct, though not all of the meanings are gathered from the same sites. [Green carnations are associated with Oscar Wilde](https://wildetimes.net/2013/04/11/oscar-wilde-and-the-green-carnation/), and have been used as a symbol for gay men.


	3. Swordfish

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First date, and some smut!

Barry had wanted to wait to meet again, "until the bruises were gone," and he had wanted an actual date. At 6:58, two minutes before the time they had agreed on, he knocked on the door to Len's apartment. He was wearing a black Henley under a garnet button up shirt, and dark blue skinny jeans, and he was holding a bouquet in his hands. He looked absolutely delicious, and Len wanted nothing more than to keep him here and taste every inch of his skin. But he had promised they would go out, so he smiled and welcomed Barry into his home.

"Blue roses? Very nice. Did you special order them just for me?"

Barry grabbed his neck and looked away. "Uhm… Actually… I colored them myself."

That was so sweet. The flowers' symbolism, a mystery or something unattainable, and the enchantment of new love, told Len that Barry had gone out of his way to make it a gesture about them. He touched Barry's cheek and leaned in for a peck on his lips. "Even better," he said, as he took the bouquet and put it in a vase.

Barry blushed a lovely scarlet, and Len couldn't wait to find out how far down that blush went. But there'd be time for that later. First, he firmly intended to charm the pants off the speedster, the old-fashioned way. He took Barry by the arm, and they walked together leisurely through the downtown neighborhood. It was hushed, only a few straggling people in suits power-walking past on their way from work, and the nightlife hadn't started yet. Perfect time for a romantic dinner. They stopped by a tiny Italian restaurant, one of Len's favorite places to eat. He sat down diagonally from Barry at a small table with a red tablecloth over a white one.

"I'm aware of your metabolism, Barry. I've seen you faint from hypoglycemia, remember?"

That had been a memorable museum heist, ending with Len carrying Barry all the way back to STAR Labs and watching over him until he was awake and coherent again. Needless to say, the loot had been forgotten at the museum, and nobody had tried to stop him from getting away.

"Please, don't remind me," Barry said with a laugh. "That was embarrassing."

"Not as embarrassing as a panic attack in a cage." He smirked. "I figure we've already got enough blackmail material on each other by now."

"True. And we've met each other's families, so that part is done."

"What are the odds of Joe West threatening me with his gun the next time we meet?"

"Oh, about the same as Lisa threatening me."

That was true, and he acknowledged it with a tilt of his head. His mind, always trying to be ten steps ahead, was telling him this easy familiarity didn't feel like a first date, and that he had a reasonably good chance of taking Barry home afterwards. He tried keeping his hopes down, and just enjoy the moment, hard as it was for him to relax.

"What I wanted to say was that I know how much you need to eat, so just order what you want, maybe a little bit more, and we'll share. As long as you order the risotto; it's delicious. This date is on me."

Barry's whole face lit up with unrestrained joy. They ended up ordering three pasta dishes, the risotto, lamb, chicken, steak, a cheese plate and a charcuterie plate, as well as three desserts. Len took a bite or two of everything, more of the risotto, and sipped a glass of sparkling white wine. Barry ate the rest, with gusto, but chose to drink plain water. They talked, but only about the kind of insignificant things they didn't know about each other.

"Of course I had an emo phase, everybody did. I'm going to regret saying this, right, but if you dig hard enough on Facebook, you can probably find the photos."

"Black clothes, piercings, My Chemical Romance quotes? You better believe I'm going to try. I wonder if Ms West-Thawne has any good ones?"

"I regret scrubbing you from the net."

Len huffed a laugh. "Believe me, nobody wants to see me in my Fresh Prince phase. The nineties were a strange time."

He suddenly felt very old, and Barry seemed to take notice of the age difference, too. Barry laid his hand on top of Len's. "I don't mind. As long as you don't call me kid, that kinda takes me out of the mood."

Fair enough. "There goes," he made a quick calculation, "about fifteen percent of my material."

"I'm sure you'll make up for it with more bad temperature related puns." Barry's eyes were glittering with amusement.

"My puns are not bad," he huffed, in fake exasperation. "Watch what you're saying, or I may not take you home tonight." They were done eating, so it was time to up the volume of the flirting. He turned his hands to hold Barry's, much like he had done when they were trapped.

"Oh no, whatever would I do with myself?" Barry asked, with one eyebrow raised and a cocked half-smile. That scenario, Len could vividly imagine.

"Probably not half the things I'd like to do with you," Len said, his voice deliberately pitched low. When Barry blushed, he knew he had won this one. He asked for their check, and they left hand in hand.

***

By the time the elevator doors closed in Len's building, they were busy making out like teenagers, with deep kisses and none too careful groping. Len had Barry's left leg around his waist, and both hands on his ass (which felt just as good in his hands as he had imagined). When the doors opened, Len pulled at Barry's other leg, and Barry was definitely with the program, letting Len carry him with both legs around his waist. It wasn't the first time either of them had carried the other, but this closeness was much better than Barry's bridal carry or Len's fireman's carry.

While Len was looking for his keys, Barry was pressed against the door and making full use of his unfairly clever tongue on Len's ear. "Not making this any easier, Red," he said.

"Good," Barry whispered. "I'm trying to make it hard."

Len leaned into him, breathing hot puffs of air into his neck. "And you have the nerve to complain about _my_ puns." He finally found the key, and unlocked the door. His bed was fifty feet away, and the couch only ten feet away. The decision was easy. He let Barry fall onto his back on the couch. He was so gorgeous, flushed and breathing hard, his legs spread and his pupils dilated to the point where his irises were just a thin glimpse of green. Len _wanted_ him.

"Come here and kiss me," Barry said. "I've wanted to kiss that smirk off your face since the first time I saw you properly."

Len was all too happy to oblige, straddling him before diving in and devouring Barry's mouth. He held his face gently, stroking the hint of stubble on his cheeks, dragging his fingers slowly along Barry's neck. The contact made him gasp, and it was a beautiful sound, one that Len wanted to hear as a permanent soundtrack. He reluctantly made their kisses more shallow, just lips meeting open lips, until he could disentangle them and start kissing downwards. Barry leaned his head back, stretching that lean neck for him, and Len took the invitation to nibble. He brushed a hand over Barry's stomach, where the shirt had scrunched up and left a sliver of skin for him to explore above Barry's hipbone.

"Oh, right there, right there," Barry said, his hands clenching Len's thighs. Barry relaxed his grip, and moved the hands upwards, with a teasingly light touch. Len ground down, and he could feel Barry's hard cock moving against his own.

"How," he panted, and started over. "How do you want this?"

"Nngh, don't make me _choose._ " Barry's voice was strained, and he didn't stop thrusting. "I've imagined this so many times…" he paused, and Len was, once again, distracted by thoughts of Barry touching himself, thinking about him, of all people. He kissed him, just to let Barry know he wasn't alone in fantasizing. "I want to get my mouth on your cock at some point tonight."

"That can… definitely... be arranged…" Those lips, red and swollen from kissing, that _mouth_ , yeah, Len was on board for that. "Bedroom?"

Before Len knew it, he'd been moved to his large bed. He was on his back, Barry above him, with a wicked smile on his lips. He smirked and raised an eyebrow, not backing down just because superpowers had been involved.

Barry kissed down Len's neck and chest, unbuttoning his shirt as he went. Len froze, not comfortable with his scars, and Barry must have noticed. "Do you want this?"

"Not… Not yet. Later."

"It's okay." He stopped, and sat up to remove his own shirts, showing off his lean chest and defined abs.

Len couldn't resist sitting up with him, stroking that chest and those small, brown nipples. He wanted to be naked with Barry, but he couldn't be, not yet. What he could do was to unbutton their jeans, and drag Barry's down past his hips. He licked those nipples, and teasingly stroked along the elastic of Barry's boxers. "I want to be inside you."

"Yesss…" Barry kissed him, arching his back. "Riding you is definitely on the List, capital L."

Len chuckled. "I'd be interested in seeing that list." He nibbled his way from Barry's nipple and downwards. Barry's hands grasped at the back of his head, trying to find a grip in Len's short hair. Len rolled them over, and tried to work Barry's jeans, his very skinny jeans, down his legs.

Barry laughed. "I can't believe we forgot to take our shoes off," he said. He stood up to get undressed properly, and Len enjoyed looking at every inch of newly bared skin. "Your turn."

He dragged Len up with a slow kiss, and Len took everything but his undershirt off. Barry wrapped him in his arms, and Len tried to just hold on, to feel all that naked skin against his own. This was a luxury he rarely, if ever, had the opportunity to indulge in. He stood there, just holding Barry and breathing him in. "You feel so good," he said, not even trying to hide the emotions in his voice.

"Just you wait," Barry replied, not letting go. They must have stood like that, hugging, for several minutes, but even Len lost count of the seconds. His erection was flagging, but he didn't care. Barry started kissing Len's neck, working his way up to his ear. "This is awesome, but I was thinking about going further, if it's okay with you? Would you mind if I went down on you?"

Len could imagine just holding Barry the entire night, but the offer of oral sex was too tempting to resist. "Please," he said.

Barry smiled, one of those grins that lit up an entire room, and fell to his knees. Not quite a superhero landing, but it was a very close thing. He looked amazing on his knees, his cock hard and red against the creamy skin of his stomach. His hazel eyes looked up under long eyelashes, and he opened his mouth to take in Len's cock.

"Wait," Len said, suddenly all too aware of what they were doing. "Condom."

"Really?" Barry looked up at him, head cocked to the side in question. It struck Len again how young he was. Barry had never been aware of a world where HIV was anything other than a chronic, manageable condition. Len still lit a candle every December 1st, remembering lost friends and a few lost lovers.

"Yes, and we'll talk about this, but not now. Just do this for me, Barry." He picked up a strip of condoms, some lube and wet wipes from the bedside table, and rolled a condom on.

The slight disappointment on Barry's face was quickly replaced by hunger, and he came close again with renewed enthusiasm. He licked along the underside of Len's cock, and swirled his tongue around the ridge of the head, before taking the head in his mouth and sucking hard. Len wobbled, trying hard to stand still, but failing. He could _feel_ Barry's smirk. One hand with long fingers wrapped around his shaft, pumping in counterpoint to Barry's head bobbing. When he looked down, he could see Barry's other hand wrapped around his own cock, just slowly stroking. He couldn't resist grabbing a large handful of Barry's hair, tugging gently without trying to fuck into his mouth.

"Hnggh… Keep doing that, don't stop…" His words were garbled, but nothing could hide the enthusiasm. Len tugged harder, and thrust shallowly into Barry's mouth. Barry kept sucking, with no finesse left.

"If we keep this up, I'm not gonna be able to fuck you," Len panted, feeling the crescendo of his orgasm approaching.

"You're making this so hard for me, Len," Barry said, licking his well-fucked and wet lips. He ducked down and gave the head of Len's cock a sloppy kiss, and then another, before coming up to kiss Len on the lips.

Len twisted them around, toppled Barry onto the bed, and started nibbling at his hip bone. He slipped a condom onto Barry's cock and lubed up two of his fingers. He was way beyond caring about taking things slow, so he swallowed down on Barry's cock and took it almost all the way to the root in a single movement. One careful finger circled Barry's hole.

"Don't go slow."

Len choked a little at the pun, and Barry must have heard it himself, too, as he groaned and put his arm over his head.

"I swear, you'll be the death of me with those puns. I can take it, I like the burn."

Len raised his head with a pop. "Not freezer burn, I hope." Barry laughed, his head thrown back. When Len entered him with a not overly careful finger, he hissed and arched his back. Len followed with a second finger, slightly more carefully. His other hand massaged the lovely, round globes of Barry's ass. "I can definitely get _behind_ this."

Barry started shaking with laughter. "Oh, God, you have to stop, this is so bad."

"Don't you like being pun-etrated?" His fingers found Barry's prostate, and he started rubbing. "I always knew you had a little bad in you."

"Wait, wait, pause… _Red_!" Barry was howling with laughter, but that was a universal safe word if he'd ever heard one. Len removed his fingers and cleaned them with a wet wipe, looking at Barry for a clue about what just had happened, but he just kept laughing until he started crying.

Once the laughter died down, Barry wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. "Could you, maybe, _not_ make me laugh like that when we're having sex? My stomach hurts. Just, chill it with the puns."

Len looked into his eyes, beautiful even when they were glistening with tears. It took a little while, but then, Barry heard his own pun and started groaning. Len leaned in for a quick kiss, and rubbed his nose against Barry's. "We should probably have a safeword that's not one of my nicknames for you." He stroked Barry's cheek. "How about 'swordfish'?"

"'The password is always swordfish?'" Barry quoted. "Works for me, but let's just not do things that needs one."

"Barry, you needed one for my _puns_." They looked at one another, and burst into laughter again at the same time. Len let his head rest on Barry's chest. This was so weird. He hadn't had sex this awkward since he was a teenager, and if it had been anyone else in his bed, he'd have kicked them out long ago. But this was Barry, who laughed and cried openly, and who wanted to be here with _him_ , not just because he was a good fuck. And who kissed the top of his head gently, when Len lay there, just taking comfort in his warmth.

"Let's be honest, Barry, we're not gonna fuck tonight. Not because we don't want to, but because we both have too much tension going on. On the bright side, I'm not going anywhere. We'll get more chances, and I really want to see that list of yours." He took them both in hand, and kissed Barry deeply. They both fucked into his hand, quickly losing their rhythm. Barry came first, with a deep sigh. Len had never seen him relaxed before, not like this, all loose and comfortable. That was the image that brought him over the brink. He came all the harder for the times he'd been teased and denied. Afterwards, he bent down to kiss Barry when he cleaned them.

"You're amazing, Len," he said, voice slurred and eyelids drooping. "Don' know what I'd do wh'out you." He took a deep breath, and Len saw him tense up again, starting from the shoulders. "I don't know what I'll do at all."

"We can figure it out," Len said, reaching out to take Barry into his arms. "You lost your job, and I'm sorry. Still sure you don't wanna become one of my Rogues?"

Barry smiled a sad little smile. "I think you'd find that I'm not exactly a great underling. I tend to do what I think is the right thing, not what anybody else tells me to do. Also, the whole stealing thing?"

"I know, I know. But you still have your friends over at S.T.A.R. Labs, right? Couldn't they help you find a new job, if you don't want to take my offer?"

Barry sat up straight. "Holy crap, I own S.T.A.R Labs!"

Len buried his face in Barry's lap. "Did you forget about that?"

"I am such a giant disaster." He leaned against the headboard, laughing weakly, and scratching Len's head with his long fingers.

"No, Barry. You're a hero. You're my hero. And I'm your villain."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [How to color blue roses.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BXx-WGlz9X8)
> 
> Len is a queer man, who's lived through the eighties and nineties, and he's not the reckless type. He would insist on condoms during oral sex. Meanwhile, Barry belongs to a generation where condom use is down and STIs are up.
> 
> Safewording due to bad puns? Yeah, I've had to do that. 
> 
> [The password is always swordfish.](https://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/ThePasswordIsAlwaysSwordfish)


End file.
